


Over the Edge

by OctopusVulgaris



Series: RVB: Reconciliation [2]
Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, but nothing too bad I think, slight suicide mention, spoilers for the end of Season 8
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-24
Updated: 2014-05-24
Packaged: 2018-01-26 07:51:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1680500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OctopusVulgaris/pseuds/OctopusVulgaris
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A twist to the end of Season 8.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Over the Edge

**Author's Note:**

> General warning for: past alcohol use and suicidal thoughts (nothing really major but it's kinda there).  
> Also I don't really know all the ins and outs of how anatomy works, so if something needs correcting tell me and I'll fix it.

As soon as he sees him start sliding backwards, Simmons drops his weapon and runs after Grif.

“Simmons!” He reaches out and before Grif can even tell him to grab his hand, he’s already latched onto him and is trying to pull them away from the edge. He has one hand dug into the cold snow trying to find something with a little more stability to hold on to and with his other hand he’s trying to not let go of the one person on this stupid planet that means something to him. Something good, anyway.

“Hold on!” he yells, using all of his strength to keep them both from going over because  _damn this is hard_  and he’s trying and he’s telling him to hold and he can’t look to see if help is coming or if there’s something else he can grab onto to help because he’s staring straight into Grif’s visor and he just wants to look into Grif’s eyes and tell him that he’ll make it, that Simmons will pull them up and they’ll head back to Blood Gulch or wherever the fuck but he just yells “Don’t let go!”

Because if this asshole lets go of his hand, Simmons will never forgive him. He’ll never be able to sit with him under the shade behind base so Sarge can’t find them. They won’t be able to sneak kisses between training. They’ll never share a bunk again. He’ll never hold his hand again and Simmons can’t think about this right now because he needs to focus on keeping Grif away from death but their grips are slipping and  _Grif you big dumb idiot you should have worked out your arms more instead of eating those fucking snack cakes._

And suddenly his hand is empty.

“Simmons!”

“Grif!”

He stumbles to his feet as a hollow feeling settles inside him.

“He’s gone.” When he says the words there’s a whirring in his ears. He doesn’t know if it’s the wind or his circuits or what but he feels more hollow the longer it goes on. “I can’t believe he’s gone.”  _Who’s going to eat all the rations that I don’t like? Who’s going to hold me when I have a nightmare?_

The whirring gets louder and he feels emptier and emptier and at some point the edge of that fucking cliff is replaced with the wall of his bunk in Valhalla. He knows he's on Valhalla because the air's a bit more moist and Grif carved their names on the wall one drunken night and the lone M that made it into Simmons' name ( _That's not how my fucking name is spelled, asshole!_ **Shut up you have too many** M **s in your name and** M **s are hard to carve**.  _Then fucking stop, you drunk_.  **Fuck you I'm almost done!** ) is staring him in the face. He's lying on his stomach and he should be on his back because lying on his stomach is bad for his lungs because they're too heavy and not set right and he can tell they've shifted forward but he doesn't fucking care. They could stop working for all he cared. Hell, they could dislodge from his metal trachea and break his still human ribs but he doesn't fucking care. He feels so empty. His other half has literally disappeared off the side of a cliff and his robotic parts are behind on maintenance so who gives a shit about the rest of him.

 **Honey, I'm home.** Simmons swears he hears Grif's voice but he doesn't move. He hears Grif's voice every time he closes his eyes, screaming for his help. And he doesn't know if this manifestation of subconscious is better or not. It doesn't feel any better than the nightmares but the return to any domesticity they had before hurts like something else.

_Go the fuck away._

**'Hello' to you too, asshole. What's grinding your gears?**

_The fact that you're dead and I didn't get to say goodbye or anything._

**Like goodbye could have done something. If you'd said goodbye it would have been the end.**

_It is the end you fucking asshole. You ended. I'm ending. It's the goddamn end. Now, get out of my head_. He feels his lips move when he says that last part but he doesn't care. He hasn't heard Sarge move around the base at all so he assumes that he's avoiding him.

"Harsh. So much for the welcome back. I guess I'll go see if Sarge misses me. Totally doubt it."

Simmons feels lips on the flesh part of his forehead and he squeezes his eyes shut.  _If I look at him I'll believe he's here and my heart can't take it._

"You know sleeping on your stomach is bad for you. Let me get you on your back."

Simmons feels hands on him and his eyes shoot open. He lifts his head and sees that dumb smile he fell in love with in that box canyon on Blood Gulch and everything seems to slow down.

"Shit I didn't ask first. Do you want to lie on your back?"

Simmons feels himself nodding and he's carefully turned onto his side and then his back. He feels his lungs properly shifting into place and he clears his throat.

"What are you-" he starts, before coughing. "What are you doing here?" he finishes when the coughing subsides. "How did you get here?" Grif looks off to the side for a few moments before talking again.

"So I had lodged the Grif-Shot into the side of the cliff and I couldn't see you anymore so I had no idea what happened to you but I didn't see you fall with me so I assumed you had lived. I climbed the cliff just as some of the UNSC guys were packing up so I got a ride with them after about 20 years of questioning. Didn't tell them anything important, though. Just asked to get sent here because I assumed you and Sarge'd be here."

"It's been days Grif." Simmon's internal clock says 80 hours and wow his  ** _everything_**  hurts.

"So maybe not 20 years. Maybe 2 days. Something broke in my armor and they thought I might have gotten frostbite. But I'm perfectly healthy," Grif laughs and a small smile forms on Simmons face.

"You idiot."

"Me? You're the one not taking care of yourself." The laughter's stopped and Simmons avoids looking at Grif by turning his head and looking at the wall and sees his misspelled name looking back at him.

"I thought you died." The silence after hangs in the air for a few seconds before Grif reaches for Simmons' hand and laces their fingers together.

"Well I'm not. We're both here and that's the end of it. Okay?" Simmons looks from their hands to Grif's eyes and he can feel tears starting to flow from his right eye.

"Okay." He smiles and Grif smiles back and Simmons doesn't feel as empty as before. "Wait. How the fuck did you climb that cliff?"

"It took fucking hours but I did it okay. And don't say you're proud of me or some shit. I deserve to be excused from all exercises for the next three weeks. At least!"

**Author's Note:**

> So there's a middle part that's not done yet because it's long and I want to upload it all at once because I'm bad at keeping up with chapters.


End file.
